The walk back to Nana's mansion was peaceful, the late afternoon sun painting everything gold. Xavier kept his hands in his pockets, listening to Nana chatter about the butterflies they'd seen, about her upcoming art exhibition, about everything and nothing.
He loved this. These stolen moments where he could just be... normal.
"—and Professor Kim said my color theory is improving but I still need work on my brush techniques, which is totally fair because last week I accidentally made the sunset look like a crime scene—Xaviee, are you even listening?"
"Crime scene sunset," he repeated dutifully, the corner of his mouth quirking up.
She swatted his arm. "You're impossible."
"Mmm."
When they reached her family's estate—all manicured lawns and old money elegance—Nana grabbed his hand and pulled him toward the side entrance. "Come on, I need to pack you some actual food before you starve to death in that apartment."
"I'm not going to starve."
"You have instant noodles and sadness in your fridge, Xaviee. That's not a diet, that's a cry for help."
The kitchen staff greeted them warmly, used to Nana's whirlwind appearances. She immediately began raiding the industrial-sized refrigerator, piling items into a reusable grocery bag with the determination of someone on a mission.
"Okay, so I'm giving you fruit—apples, oranges, some grapes. Bread, definitely bread. Oh, and this strawberry jam is amazing, you'll love it. The chef made it fresh yesterday." She moved to the freezer. "Chicken breast, beef for stew, some salmon because you need omega-3s..."
Xavier watched her, leaning against the counter, something warm and dangerous tightening in his chest. She was wearing a sundress today, yellow like the butterflies she loved, her hair pulled back in a messy ponytail. She barely reached the middle shelf of the fridge even on her tiptoes.
She was so small. So fragile. So unbearably precious.
One of the older maids, Mrs. Lee, caught his eye and smiled knowingly. "You two really are like an old married couple," she said in Korean, probably assuming Nana wouldn't understand.
Nana spun around, responding in perfect Korean, "Mrs. Lee! Don't say that, you'll make Xaviee uncomfortable!"
The maid laughed, delighted. "Oh, child. Look at the way he looks at you. That boy wouldn't be uncomfortable if you asked him to move mountains."
Pink dusted Nana's cheeks. She shoved the now-bulging grocery bag at Xavier's chest. "Here. Don't you dare survive on instant noodles this week, or I'm coming back to check."
"Yes, ma'am." He took the bag with one hand—heavy enough that most people would need both—and used his free hand to pat her head gently. His fingers lingered maybe a moment too long in the soft strands of her hair.
"Study hard, Starlight."
"You too! And sleep more! Actual sleep, not just napping between study sessions!"
"I'll try."
She beamed up at him, sunlight incarnate. "Text me when you get home safe!"
He nodded, even though they both knew his apartment was a five-minute walk away. But it was their routine. Their normal.
He bent down slightly—he always had to bend for her—and for just a moment, he let himself memorize her face. The constellation of light freckles across her nose. The way her eyes crinkled when she smiled. The absolute trust in her expression when she looked at him.
She had no idea what he really was.
What he did in the dark.
"See you tomorrow?" she asked hopefully.
"Maybe. I have a study group in the evening."
"Okay! But if you finish early, come over! We can watch that movie you promised—"
"Nana!" A voice called from inside. "Your tutor is here!"
"Coming!" She gave Xavier one last wave, backing toward the house. "Don't forget to eat! And sleep! And text me!"
"I won't forget."
He waited until she disappeared inside, her yellow dress a flash of sunshine before the door closed.
Then his smile dropped.
The transformation was instant. The sleepy, gentle Xavier vanished, replaced by something colder. Harder. His blue eyes turned to ice as he glanced around the garden, noting the security cameras, the blind spots, the places where someone could breach the perimeter.
He'd need to update her father's security. The system was decent but not good enough. Not for what was coming.
Xavier walked until he was out of sight of the mansion's cameras, behind the old gardening shed. Then he simply... disappeared.
The teleportation was instantaneous—a blink of light, a fold in space—and he materialized in his apartment living room. The grocery bag landed on the counter with a heavy thud.
He had approximately four hours before someone would expect him to text Nana. Four hours before he had to put the mask back on.
Four hours to be what he really was.
Xavier moved to his bookshelf, fingers finding the spine of a leather-bound copy of
*The Art of War*. He pressed it, and the mechanical click was satisfyingly quiet. The entire section of the wall shifted, books and all, revealing a sleek elevator panel with a biometric scanner.
He pressed his palm to it. The screen flashed green.
*Welcome back, Boss.*
The elevator descended smoothly, dropping five stories below ground level. When the doors opened, it was to a completely different world.
The underground facility was all steel and shadows, lit by cold LED strips. His men—twenty of them tonight—stood at attention the moment he stepped out. They were armed, alert, and absolutely lethal.
"Status," Xavier said, his voice devoid of the soft warmth he used with Nana.
His second-in-command, Kai—a scarred man in his thirties with cruel eyes—stepped forward. "The perimeter around the Anderson estate is secure. We've had eyes on her since you left. No unusual activity."
"The Serpent Guild?"
"Three of their scouts were spotted in the east district. We... discouraged them." Kai's smile was sharp. "Permanently."
Xavier nodded, moving toward the war room. He shrugged off his casual jacket, and one of his men immediately handed him a tailored black suit jacket, the kind with reinforced lining for concealed weapons. He changed efficiently—combat knife secured in a hidden sheath at his ankle, two handguns holstered at his sides, the weight familiar and grounding.
This was who he really was.
Not the sleepy college student who let a sunshine girl climb all over him.
Not the gentle best friend who caught butterflies and let his chin rest on her head.
He was the Shen devil's. The youngest mafia lord in the city's underground. The man who'd inherited an empire built on blood and betrayal, and who'd made it even more powerful.
The man who, at twenty-five, had more death on his hands than most people could imagine.
"Bring up the shipment details," Xavier ordered, entering the war room where holographic displays lit up the space. Maps, routes, real-time surveillance feeds.
One screen showed Nana's mansion. Another showed her bedroom window.
His jaw tightened. He hated having cameras on her, but it was necessary. The Serpent Guild had been sniffing around lately, asking questions about his weaknesses. It was only a matter of time before they connected the dots.
Before they realized that the Shen devil's only vulnerability was a twenty year-old art student who thought he just really liked naps.
"The weapons shipment arrives at dock seven at 0200 hours," Kai reported. "The buyers are already confirmed—the Kozlov Bratva from Moscow. They're paying in diamonds, as agreed."
Xavier studied the route on the display. "Security?"
"Twelve of our best. I'd suggest you handle negotiations personally. The Russians respect strength."
"Fine." Xavier checked his watch. 5:47 PM. "Schedule it. I'll be there."
"And the other matter?" Kai's expression darkened. "The assassin."
The temperature in the room seemed to drop.
"Show me."
Kai pulled up a grainy photograph on the screen. A man, mid-thirties, with dead eyes and a distinctive scar across his throat. "Lee Jin-Woo. Freelancer. Known for kidnapping jobs. The Serpent Guild hired him three days ago."
"Target?"
"They didn't tell him. Just to watch the Anderson estate and wait for orders."
Xavier's fingers curled into fists. His light evol flickered around his hands—barely visible white light that could, with focus, tear through flesh and bone. "Where is he now?"
"We're tracking him. He's been careful, but we have two possible safehouses."
"I want him found tonight." Xavier's voice was soft, deadly. "Before he gets anywhere near her."
"Understood, Boss."
The meeting continued—discussions of territory disputes, upcoming deals, problems that needed to be solved with violence or money or both. Xavier handled it all with cold efficiency, his mind sharp despite the exhaustion weighing on him.
He'd been up for thirty-six hours straight. Last night, he'd personally eliminated five Serpent Guild members who'd gotten too close to Nana's regular coffee shop. He'd had to scrub blood from under his fingernails before picking her up for their butterfly hunt.
But he'd smiled for her. Let her climb on him. Let her shove food at him with that adorable bossy concern.
Because with Nana, he could pretend to be human.
"Sir." A younger operative approached nervously. "The old man wants to speak with you. He's waiting in conference room three."
The old man. Dmitri Kozlov, head of the Russian Bratva. Seven wives, each more dangerous than the last, and a network that spanned three continents.
Xavier straightened his suit jacket. "Tell him I'll be there in five minutes."
When the operative left, Kai stepped closer, voice low. "Boss... you look like death. When's the last time you actually slept?"
Xavier's expression didn't change. "I slept this afternoon."
"That was a nap, not sleep. You need—"
"What I need," Xavier interrupted quietly, "is for the Serpent Guild to disappear. Permanently. Before they decide that the best way to hurt me is through her."
Kai fell silent. Everyone in the organization knew about Nana, though they'd never speak her name aloud. She was the unspoken rule, the invisible line no one dared cross.
Hurt her, and the Shen devil's would show no mercy.
"Get me everything on the assassin within the hour," Xavier ordered. "And double the guard rotation around her estate. I want eyes on her 24/7."
"Already done, Boss."
Xavier nodded and headed for the conference room, his footsteps silent on the steel floor.
Inside, Dmitri Kozlov waited—an old wolf in expensive silk, his weathered face creased with a smile that didn't reach his eyes.
"Ah, Shen xinghui! Or should I call you Xavier?" The Russian's accent was thick. "You look tired, boy. The young woman, yes? She exhausts you?"
Xavier's expression remained neutral as he sat across from him. "Let's discuss business, Mr. Kozlov."
"Of course, of course." The old man laughed. "But first—a toast. To profitable partnerships."
He poured vodka into two glasses, sliding one across the table.
Xavier picked it up, meeting the old man's eyes. Most business dealings in his world ended in blood, but Kozlov was smart. Reasonable. They'd work together before.
"To profit," Xavier agreed.
They clinked glasses. The vodka burned down his throat, and Xavier felt the familiar settling of his mind into this role. The monster. The king. The boy who'd been five years old when his mother was murdered, who'd sworn over her grave that he'd build an empire strong enough that no one could ever hurt the people he loved again.
He'd succeeded.
The empire was built. He was untouchable.
But Nana...
She was his Achilles' heel. His one weakness in a world that devoured weakness.
And somewhere out there, an assassin was watching her, waiting for the order to strike.
Xavier's fingers tightened on the glass.
They'd have to go through him first.
And he hadn't become the most feared man in the underground by showing mercy.
His phone buzzed in his pocket. A text from Nana:
'Did you get home safe? 🦋'
Xavier stared at it for a moment—the butterfly emoji, the casual concern, the innocence—then typed back with one hand while Kozlov droned on about shipment schedules.
'Safe and sound. Putting your groceries away now. Study hard, Starlight. '⭐
He added the star emoji because it made her laugh.Then he pocketed the phone and returned his attention to the arms deal, to the violence and darkness that was his real world.
Two faces. Two lives.
For her, he'd keep them separate.
No matter the cost.
.
.
.
.
.
To be continued.